genessia | One last hurrah

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One last hurrah - Homestuck

Who: Ted & Ronan, plus any others that might want to lend a hand
What: Bounty to defeat the magic binder in Everglade
Where: House of the victim, then towards the target
When: 7:00 pm, December 12th

Everglade could only truthfully be described as "pleasant" by tourists and malcontents. The kind of city only a mother could love. The falling snow didn't help things. Still, Ted was cheerful as always. He was Ronan's boss, so he couldn't seem too eager, but he was excited to see his latest deputy in action. Not even the fact that this might be his last bounty for the city could dampen his spirits. Well, not much.

"The first thing to know about magic," Ted explained as they walked towards the house of the victim, "Is that it often makes one play by its rules. The second thing to know is that it very rarely explains itself. If Cinderella had asked why she must be home by twelve, her fairy godmother probably would've replied: 'Well, if that vexes you, then explain how you're going to the ball by twelve?' But then, we are officers of the law. Playing by the rules is our specialty." Ted would continue to chatter about the intricacies of the arcane as they inched nearer to their suspect.

The house, like most Everglade houses, had a kind of dilapidated charm. The kind of thing you knew was creaky by sight alone. It was humble, a fact Ted predicted simply by the pay rate involved. "Whatever the criminal was after, it can't have been money. Must be a more personal feud. Oh, but listen to me, playing detective. I'll leave that to one for whom it's no play at all. Let's see you shake them down for all the information they have. Sorry, finding the villain is always the dullest part. We'll have more entertaining struggles later, I'll bet."

The family suffered anxiously. The man of the house answered with a meek "Hello? Please tell me you're here about that magician. We've had to have groceries stuffed down our chimney for weeks. My son hasn't been able to play outside, and we have bills we need to mail."

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If you had asked Ronan no more than a month ago what he would have said to a guy who was claiming to be locked in his house by a magician, he would have said he'd tell the guy to go sleep off whatever he'd taken and call down to the station first thing in the morning. Then he'd died and things had gotten really weird.

Now here he was, on the door-step of a house in a town built on magic, expected to have a nice, level-headed conversation with the victims of the weirdest hostage situation he'd ever heard of. Still, people were people, magic or no, and that left him with a few constants to work with.

He pulled a small notepad out of his brest pocket and nodded at the poor guy.

"We're planning on doing our best, sir. My name is Ronan O'Connor. I'm a deputy with the Guardian office, and I'm sure you know your Guardian. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

The man shook his head. "Heavens, no! Whatever it takes to put an end to this. No one should be forced to live with-to be kept inside their own homes for weeks on end. It's maddening, I tell you! Simply maddening!" He man shook his head. "Can I invite the two of you in for tea? It's the least I can do. Really."

Ronan gave a weak chuckle. "Uh, if it's all the same to you, sir, I think we'll stay on the step. If we're trying to get you out of there, getting trapped in there with you's kind of counter-productive."

The man nodded. "Oh, yes, of course, Deputy. Right you are."

Ronan nodded again, looking down at his as-yet blank notepad. "Do you or your family have any known enemies?"

"Enemies?" He asked himself. "You don't think it's some random madman, then? You know how crazy wizards can be. Well...I get along with almost everybody. I was a star athlete in Everglade High, which is where I met my wife. We're high school sweethearts. Then I started my own business where I fix up used furniture. I don't recall ever getting a bad complaint or review."

A sweet, feminine voice echoed through the living room. "Honey, is someone here to help?"

"Yes dear! The Sheriff's department sent its best." His presumed wife, carrying a basket of laundry, planted a kiss on him before wheeling around back to her tasks. Even through the screen door, it was plain to see that she was a catch.

"Isn't she a peach? Best woman in all of Everglade, if you ask me. It's almost our anniversary, and I'd hate to spend it cooped up in here. I wish I could be more help; you never know who's a magician these days. Not exactly something you frame on the wall."

"I know how crazy people can be sir, and that's enough." He waited through the man's visit, nodding at the woman a greeting, before looking back to the man. "Nine times out of ten, sir, the culprit knows the victim. I'm just trying to eliminate possibilities and get to the bottom of this."

He wasn't ready to rule out it being a random attack, either. "Before all this happened, did you notice anything strange? Odd people in the neighborhood?"

"Odd people? You sure know how to narrow it down! That could describe just about everyone in this city; it's why people tend not to get out much. Now I can see I took outside living for granted. If only I could remember the night I found myself locked out from the inside..."

Along came the wife, rubbing his shoulders. "Come on honey, I know you can do it. Take a deep breath, and close your eyes. Just try to relax and picture the moment."

The man took her suggestions totally, exhaling the rough snort of a blue collar worker. "Let's see...I was just getting back from a night of office work. I remember I was home a little later than I should be; there was this piece of furniture I really wanted to do the upholstery on; couldn't leave it unfinished. I'm sorry, honey, I know how busy you were with the-"

"Shhhh. Don't judge it honey, just go back to your senses."

He grinned bashfully before going back. "Well, I pulled up to the driveway, and then stepped out of the car. I don't recall anyone following me. I think there was a strange scent in the air. Like...incense. Like on our honeymoon. I was...a little anxious, because our house was being inspected for rats. I know, because my wife had to stay with a friend while I was at work so the place could be looked at. Luckily, everything checked out; the pest control man left a note on the door saying we were 100% rat free. I breathed a sigh of relief, still smelling that candle smell, and closed the door. I had dinner with my wife; nothing candle-lit. It was Thanksgiving leftovers; turkey and stuffing. It was Tuesday, and I just remembered that I had to have the garbage out by tomorrow. I took the liner out of the trash can, and jiggled the doorknob. That's when I discovered we were stuck. I shoved a bit harder, and was shoved right back. I tried to pound on the windows, but got more of the same. And that's...pretty much all I know. Does that help?"

"I'm sure it does, sweety." She gave her hands a rest. "My husband has a strong nose; it's what makes cooking for him so frustrating. I can never surprise him!"

He laughed. "It's all wonderful, just the same. Now that I think about it, there was one oddity. Now that we've spent so much time at home, we've amused ourselves by looking at old picture books. We were leafing through the one of our high school, and I think one of the pictures was missing."

The wife chuckled. "I've tried to get him into scrapbooking, but he's too much of a man's man for that. It probably just fell out or got lost. He can be a little forgetful."

The man rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry, I wish I could remember more. Does that help?"

The problem Ronan was seeing here was pretty obvious, at least from the perspective of actually solving this case. They might have to bring Levy in on this one. Tracing fingerprints was one thing. What they might need was, what? A forensic magician? Was that even a thing? Hopefully they didn't need to find out, besides, his gut was telling him the lead this guy just gave them was going to pay off. His gut hadn't been wrong yet.

He scratched a few notes in his book: rat catcher, no one home, left note. Incense. Then he looked back to the guy.

"So, this pest inspector had complete access to your home when nobody else was around. Your place smelled funny after that. You didn't notice you couldn't leave until you went to take out the trash later, right? i'm just trying to get a timeline together, here. Did anybody else exit the house after you got home but before you took out the trash? What time did you arrive and around what time did you try to leave? Also, when was the inspector scheduled to be in your home?"

The man was starting to come to the same suspicions Roman was. "You think it was whomever inspected our house? That...would make sense, I suppose. No, it's just Laura and myself here; we don't have any pets. I came home around...6:30 pm, I think. Dinner and recreation lasted about till 10, or so, when I remembered to wheel the garbage out to the street. I'm fairly certain no one left the house in-between. Let's see, we were scheduled to be inspected at..I think from two till four in the afternoon. Could've been earlier; I don't quite remember the time. I do remember the company: Wailing Widow Pest Control. It's a moderately sized place, a few blocks off of Groaznic Village. It stood out to me, because that's the poor district. They could probably use a service like that, if they could afford it. Kind of ironic,when you think about it."

Ronan made notes as to the location of the place and the times the man gave him, nodding all the while. "I don't know if the person responsible had anything to do with this company or not, sir, but we have a dedication to follow every lead and that's exactly what we're going to do." He smiled his best smile. "We'll get to the bottom of this, that I can promise. Try to have a good night, sir. If we have any further questions, we'll be back. Thank you for your time."

Once the man had gone, thanking them profusely, Ronan turned to his boss. "What do you think the odds are this asshole works for the pest control company?"

Ted couldn't help but smile at the coarse language. He was older than him by more than a decade, a fact that continued to bashfully amuse with every use of the word 'boss'. That and being the rough 'n tough cop was simply his character. Far be it from Ted to try and tame that lion.

"Pretty good, I'd say. Most business hours don't run that late, but then this is Everglade. Worth a look." On the videophone, that is. Even rustic cities like this had to have an internet presence nowadays. It's the future, man. "Mm. No, they close at four, officially, making them quite sane and decreasing their chances at having our man. Oh well; one of the nice things about being Guardian is that I can issue my own search warrants. I think." Best not to look into that law too closely, Ronan. "Justice delayed is justice denied. Probably. So let's not wait till tomorrow to put an end to this."

So Ted would practically drag Ronan to get to the business by 7:30 or so, well past closing time. "Hmm. I suppose we could just bust in, but that's hardly law-abiding. Any clandestine tricks up your sleeve?"

Edited 2015-12-18 02:50 (UTC)

"I'm not saying this lockdown was sanctioned by the business, but it's an in for the guy. He's working extra, getting in some more customers before the end of the day. He looks damned good on paper and it gives him the opening he needs to do whatever the hell he wants."

Ronan didn't mind not being the boss. In fact, the boss didn't get to do field work nearly as often as the grunts did. His brother-in-law was his boss back home, well at least before he'd died, and he wouldn't trade the position with Rex for the world.

The idea of just breaking into a business that may or may not be related to this case bothered Ronan, though, and he didn't do anything to hide the uncertainty in his expression as he looked to Ted.

"You really just want to break in here? I mean...sure...I can get the lock open..." He'd been a thief before he was a cop. He could get in, no problem at all, but...

Ted did not expect that. Here he thought the guys with tats to spare would be all for procedural shortcuts. "Oh, all right. I'll try and see if I can find the owner's name..."

About an hour later, a portly man with beady eyes and a large nose made himself available, angrily maneuvering a large ring of keys to the front door. Ted had gone to produce the warrant in the meantime. "You think one of mine is behind what's in the paper? Pah! Can't trust anything the media says these days. How do they know you need to rough up the mage what did this, eh? Get it from one of their fortune tellers, I'll bet. You think I just hire any old coot with a wand and a death wish to come gas rats? Back in my day..."

Ted did what he could to assuage the man's grievances, assuring him that they just wanted to look through some records and see who was set to visit the house that day. It was a good turn that Ronan suggested merely intruding on the other boss' evening, for he knew his way around his own paperwork far better than Ted would've. After leafing through some records, he flung the job log down in front of them. "There, happy? The Hamstring's house (the victim's) was set to be inspected at two pm that day by Bryan Tanner, my best man. And I can assure you he's not into any mystical mumbo-jumbo, so I'm afraid you've all wasted your evening -and- mine. Good night, inspectors."

Something seemed odd, though. Not to Ted, for he took most things at face value, but certainly to Ronan. The man's anger seemed a little too rushed; too dismissive. And there was the way he avoided eye contact, every now and again; a furtiveness of conduct. He was clearly hiding something. Wring it out of him, Mr. O'Connor.

Ronan was pretty familiar with protective people, people trying to hide other peoples' involvement in whatever they'd gotten themselves wrapped up in. He knew the body language, he knew the shifting eyes, and he moved himself between the portly owner and the door even as he threw the log down in front of Ted, crossing his arms to look even more intimidating than he already did.

"Look, sir. You're right. It's been a long night, and you were kind enough to come down here and look through your records for us. I can't tell you how much we appreciate that. So, you know Mr. Tanner pretty well, huh? You seem pretty sure he'd never do anything like this. That sounds like that makes you a character witness." He smiled at the man. "So I have some more questions for you, specifically about Mr. Tanner. I hope you don't have any plans this evening."

Ted enjoyed the show, watching the fat man squirm. "Well, that is, you know...we keep things professional. It's not like I read the man's diary or anything...um, well as long as you brought me out here, I can answer a few questions. Hey, what are the odds this might all get back to me...you know, professionally?"

"That's all up to you." Ronan was over giving this man the respect of 'sir.' "Now I'm going to be asking the questions. I think it's a little weird you'd say he's not into all that mystical stuff, but then only claim to know him on a professional basis, so we're gonna try again. How do you know Mr. Tanner?"

"I um, well I hired him, obviously! And I only hire the, ah, best. That means I don't hire any...ah hah, um...you know, weirdos. I'm very...choosy about who I pick. Although, times have been kind of hard. We've been short handed lately, and I can't get as many on call around the holidays. But Tanner, he's loyal to the end. Said he didn't mind working through the winter; didn't have much family anyway. Said that ship sailed a long time ago..." The portly boss then shut up quite suddenly, as though he'd let slip a little more than he ought.

Ronan nodded along with the owner's story, not moving from his position between the man and the door. "Oh, yeah. Of course. You'd do a full background check, right? Only, that doesn't sound like the kind of thing someone would put on a resume, so how are you so sure? If you're having trouble remembering, I'm sure we can make you more comfortable down at the station."

"No need for that! You're the ones that dragged me out of my house, remember? I'm cooperating, here!" Ronan had pushed him a bit too far when it comes to defensiveness. "Look, I have employees to look after here. Good-for-nothing, holiday-enjoying, work-shirking employees, but they're mine all the same. I can't have some goofball mess up the Wailing Widow's reputation just because he bought himself a few Magic 101 books, all right?" The boss was trying to articulate a more helpful position, provided they were discreet and looked after the business' good name.

"Look, background checks aren't really...done, around here. Don't ask, don't tell. It's all very hush hush in Everglade. Most people keep to themselves, and we don't pry. I mean, I hired pretty much everyone else the same way, and they turned out all right, right?" He didn't sound too sure.

A long sigh. "Look, Bryan's always been a little weird. Even by this city's standards. He didn't talk much, not to me, not to any of the other technicians. Not really interested in sports or stuff the guys like. Never brought anyone, girlfriend or sister or something, to the holiday get-togethers. People would ask what he did for the weekend, and he'd say things like "reading" or "spending time alone." He's a weird one, but hey, who isn't here?"

He got more sincere as his desperation went up.

"Look, he's probably your man. Reads a lot, doesn't get along with anyone, not a lot going on in his life. Magicians are always like that, aren't they? But he was always willing to work in the tough times. Just...put him down nicely, all right? I've already stuck my neck out, and I'd rather not be hexed or cursed. I've got my family and my business to think about. Here's his address."

Ronan nodded his thanks and started turning toward the door. "That wasn't that hard, was it? I don't talk to the press, and I'm sure the Guardian just wants this taken care of. There's no reason for anybody to learn where Bryan worked. Just...keep an eye on your people, man. You're sending them into peoples' homes. What if it had been you or your family?"

Ted simply smiled, letting out a quick parting before trotting behind his subordinate. "Oh, seeing you work is payment enough. You really buttered up that butterball!" He rubbed his hands for warmth and to display excitement. "Now we can put this mad magician behind bars and have a good roughhousing. With luck we'll have the Hamstrings out by midnight."

The address wasn't far from the Wailing Widow; a 45-minute walk. Ted knocked on the door, hollered, and all the rest. No answer. "Would you do the honors?"

Ted might have had a lot going for him, but a good, sharp police knock wasn't one of them. He moved to stand in front of the door, knocking five times, true and strong. "Bryan Tanner! This is Ronan O'Connor, Deputy Guardian. At the moment, we just wanna ask you a few questions! This doesn't have to be ugly if you just cooperate."

That was the only chance Ronan was going to be giving the guy, looking over to Ted while he waited for a response. He wasn't against breaking the door down, silence was enough of an admission for him, and the idea of magical wards never even entered his mind.

Ted stifled a laugh. "Trying for the 'easy way', eh? I didn't figure you for an optimist. Well, let's hope he takes it." From the silence that met them, either Bryan wasn't home, or he had severe ideas about privacy. A few moments of this, and Ted nodded for him to commence the 'hard way' instead.

Ronan didn't look pleased with the outcome, but gave a nod before turning to the door. He pulled a simple pistol, one he'd gotten with his first paycheck, and held it at the ready before he squared on the door, called up that the man had left them no choice, and then aimed and kicked squarely at the door, just to the side of the handle.

It wasn't the first door he'd kicked in.

Ted produced his gun too, eager to recreate those special moments found in buddy cop dramas. He tumbled into the living room, then pointed his gun at nothing in particular. Empty here, too.

The room itself was meek and modest. Everglade was a city fond of decay, and yet it had not found its way into the furnishings. It was tidy; a place for everything, and everything in its place. Of note were the full bookshelves. Each were thick tomes, and yet had gathered no dust. An avid reader, this Bryan.

Ted jumped when he heard a voice. A Magic Mouth materialized on the north wall in front of them. It was a pair of cartoon lips, relaying a prerecorded message. "I assume you're here to collect the price put on me and end the curse put on the Hamstrings. I also assume you're uncultured brutes for breaking into my home uninvited; you'll regret that. Well, come and get me, so I can show you just how big a mistake you've made. Philistines!"

Ted was a little unnerved. "Confident, this one. It's probably gauche to say this smells like a trap, but I don't particularly mind walking into it. How about you?"

Ronan watched Ted's antics in confusion. Did he think this was a game? They were dealing with a guy who'd cast magic strong enough to lock a family in their home for weeks without fading. This wasn't some cop show where everything was going to be shored up in an hour and the bad guy was behind bars.

As crazy as this was, it was real, and that meant Ted was a liability. Ronan was the first to charge in without backup, but there was backup here, and that meant having to watch his back.

Especially if he thought this was an episode of Law & Order instead of a bounty that needed to be collected.

After the message, Ronan looked to Ted, his voice quiet. "Confident or scared. He's either posturing because he means it, or because he doesn't and he wants us to think he does."

"Mm. That's far too many psychological angles for my liking. Let's bag him whatever his mental state, and let the professionals sort him out." He took a few steps forward, before having an idea. "Oh! There's no need to do this SWAT-style treading. We have ghosts for that." He pressed the button on his red-and-white pokeball, letting out Gengar in a flash. Judging by its face, Gengar believed 100% this was a game.

"Gengar! Look around and find our man." Eager to win at hide-and-seek, Gengar agreed, floating to the left. It bumped into an invisible wall, patting its sore head for its trouble. Another magic mouth appeared next to the collision.

"Ah ah ah! This is a guided tour, homewreckers. The Hamstring's aren't the only ones with a sealed house. I'm just choosier about it. Oh, and don't even think about leaving. The spell's designed to trap anyone who wanders inside. Now, please, be my guest and go into the kitchen. I don't do much cooking, but I think you'll really like what I've made."

Ted snapped his fingers. "Damned magicians. Always so methodical. Probably what makes them mad." He pressed the pokeball again, firing a laser to recapture Gengar. He took a deep breath, then pressed onward in the only direction he could.

The kitchen was surprisingly well kept. The same pristine orderliness was at work here too. The utensils were lined up on the walls, there weren't any smudges on the counter tops, and the silver was truly stainless. Emphasis on past tense. As soon as it was breached, the kitchen was rigged to ruin itself in a fit of obstacle-frenzy.

Knives would magically fly off the shelves. The oven would belch fire. Fruit and bags of flour would fling themselves into the faces of any would-be intruders. Clearly, Bryan had no qualms about trashing his own place. Ted would've made some quip about this being his last stand, were he not busy dodging drawers of utensils.

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One last hurrah - Homestuck

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(I lost this, I'm sorry)

Re: (I lost this, I'm sorry)